The Stranger and Stronger Face
by myelevencents
Summary: Post-"Wilson's Heart" -- Cuddy needs some help, hopefully her actions won't alienate House and Wilson. Focuses on Wilson's problems and the three friends with some Huddy angst added for good measure.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: This is my first story, so bear with me-- the story's been in my mind for a while. It takes place after "Wilson's Heart," so if you haven't seen it stop reading. None of the "House" crew belong to me as they belong to the awesome people who dreamed them up. Let me know what you think!

**Chapter 1**

"_Birth, and lust, and illness, and death are changeless things, and when one of these harsh facts springs out upon a man at some sudden turn of the path of life, it dashes off for the moment his mask of civilization and gives a glimpse of the stranger and stronger face below."_

_-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, "The Curse of Eve"_

Lisa Cuddy was sitting at her desk, staring at her phone, deep in thought. It had been three weeks since Amber's death and two since Wilson had requested to come back to work. "_It will help me take my mind off things_," he told her. But she knew better. She should have insisted that he stay at home, take a vacation, forced him to take time to mourn. But as he stood in front of her, with tears in his eyes, broken, she couldn't refuse him. She agreed and let him come back before he was ready.

She shook her head, internally acknowledging her stupidity and useless guilt. And now, well, now he was... he was different. She knew what it was. She forced herself to stop thinking about the problem and go back to thinking about the solution.

House? Wilson hardly talked to House anymore. Sure, they would sit at the same table, eat lunch with her and engage in superficial pleasantries, but she knew it was only for her sake. Wilson (though he insisted to the contrary), hadn't forgiven House yet and House was still suffering from survivor's guilt (though he vehemently denied it). All her time in and out of the hospital was spent worrying about them, watching them. The last few days had become increasingly hard to handle.

House had all but proclaimed that she was his new best friend-- running in and out of her office to discuss everything from diagnoses to General Hospital, hunting her down to analyze all life's puzzles, sticking around (sometimes after hours) to drag her to a bar. She had to admit she enjoyed having House as a friend, crazy as it seemed, but in moderation. His neediness was starting to drive her up the wall.

Wilson was a different situation altogether. She had to seek him out; she had to beg him to do anything. And the harder she pulled, the farther he seemed to slip away. What other choice did she have? She was going to have to call. Obviously, she wasn't helping Wilson and House hardly gave her a moment to...

The door flung open and gently thudded against the wall before she could look up.

"You won't believe the night I had. I met this girl who did the most extraordinary thing with... Cuddy? **Hey, Cuddy!**"

She sighed heavily and raised her eyes to find Greg House standing in front of her, eyebrow raised suspiciously.

"House, there's no need to yell. I heard you," she said, leaning back in her chair.

"Liar. You were lost in thought--"

"No, I wasn't," she interrupted him. "You were about to tell me about some woman who could shoot Ping-Pong balls--"

"I was going to tell you about this girl who could do extraordinary things with a deck of cards. But your story sounds much more interesting," he finished, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

"House, I really don't have time to--" mercifully, her statement was cut short by his pager.

"Just when we were getting to the good part. I've got to go save my patient from choking on own his tongue, but when I get back I want a full account with pictures!" he yelled over his shoulder as he hobbled out of her office. "Particularly, how it made you feel. Warm and gushy inside? Just gushy?"

"Good-bye, House," and she smiled in spite of herself.

With her distraction gone, Lisa's thoughts returned to Wilson. She moved closer to her desk and played with her necklace nervously. If she wanted to help him there was nothing else she could do. She shifted in her seat and before reaching to the phone, paused. What if she's wrong? Her suspicions could be wrong, couldn't they? There was a chance that... she shook her head. No. Not this time. She knew she was right even as she prayed she wasn't.

Lisa picked up the phone and dialed a number that she knew by heart. She felt like a such traitor as she punched the numbers. There was a chance Wilson would never forgive her. As she put the receiver to her ear, she decided she could live with that. What she could not live with was seeing him turn into House.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note_: _**Sorry this chapter has taken a million years. It's a lot of expedition, so it's pretty lengthy. Next time, more fun. Thanks for reading and reviewing-- you're awesome! Also, I don't own House, but I think you know that.

**Chapter 2**

_Twenty-seven minutes. She was supposed to be here twenty-seven minutes ago. I know the flight landed on time. How long should it really take to get here? _

Lisa Cuddy paced nervously on the sidewalk outside Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. She had taken great care in planning the events for the day. House had clinic duty starting at noon, so she knew that he would probably find a room and hide from her until his shift was over (even though they were becoming closer, House's attitude toward clinic hours had not changed). From noon to three Wilson had back-to-back-to-back appointments, so all she had to worry about was getting her visitor into the building without drawing too much attention. Well, at least, that _would_ have been all she had to worry about if everything was going according to plan. She glanced down at her watch for possibly the fifty-second time that afternoon. 1:28. _Great._ Lisa was beginning to wonder if she had made the right decision.

But before she could chastise herself further, a taxi pulled up to the curb. Cuddy checked her watch-- 1:30. There still was a good chance that they could enter undetected by House. Maybe House would never have to know she was here.

The cab door popped open and a warm voice greeted her, "Lisa!"

Cuddy took a moment to take in the sight of her friend. It was almost as if she had stepped out of a travel brochure for some far away, barely inhabited tropical island. Brown, wavy beach hair, flowing dress, sandals and a permanent smile. She was the same as Cuddy remembered, still young and eager to please, desperate to befriend, but more comfortable in her own skin.

"I missed you! You never came for that visit," her friend reprimanded, hugging her. "You look amazing!" she said, taking a step back and appraising her friend.

"Oh, yeah. Fourteen hour days and sleepless nights really work for me," Cuddy said sarcastically. "You on the other hand... Costa Rica really agrees with you."

"Not being a doctor any more, now _that_ agrees with me. Now what's all the secrecy for? You know that I love to visit, but my assistant said you just needed to see me as soon as possible. No information, no details. What's going on?"

"Why don't we go inside and we can talk in my office?" Cuddy thought that her tone was casual, but as her companion's smile faded away she knew she was unsuccessful in hiding her worry

"Lisa," her tone suddenly turned serious. "What's going on that you can't tell me over the phone?"

"Jules, we should go inside."

She studied Lisa for a moment, then paid the cab driver and took her suitcase. "Ok."

The sounds of PPTH surrounded them as they walked in, every so often a nosey nurse or curious doctor would glance at them, wondering who the pretty brunette accompanying Dr. Cuddy was and why she had a suitcase. The walk to her office seemed to take a lifetime, but luckily the two friends arrived there undetected.

"I'm unavailable if someone comes by," Cuddy told her assistant. "And if House is looking for me, tell him I'm in with Wilson." She knew that was the only thing that would keep House away.

As she entered her office she locked the door behind her and shut the blinds around the room.

"Why are you locking the door?" Jules asked.

"Insurance. I don't want House to come barging in."

Juliana's worried look turned into confusion. "Wait. House, he's here? At the hospital? But I thought that--"

"I needed you to come and I couldn't wait until I sent him to a conference or gave him the day off."

"Does he know I'm here? You know how much he hates me--"

"He doesn't hate you, he envies you. He's jealous."

"Lisa, what's going on?"

"Why don't you sit down," Cuddy said, motioning to the sofa while taking a seat on a nearby armchair.

"What is going on?" she asked forcefully, taking her seat on the couch.

Cuddy took a deep breath, gathering up the courage to say what she knew she had to. "When was the last time you spoke with your brother?"

"A week or so ago. He and his new girlfriend were going to come see me, take a little vacation, but he said he couldn't get off work. He didn't sound too good, so I figured that they had a fight and things weren't going well between them. That's his usual MO-- calls me, sounds horrible, insists he's fine and then three months later I find out that he had a fight or got divorced or cheated on his wife. You know, the usual. Why?"

"So he hasn't told you anything about--"

"Lisa, is Wil okay? Did something happen?" Terror filled Juliana's face as she waited Cuddy's answer.

"Three weeks ago, there was a major bus crash--"

"Oh my god... Was James... Is he hurt... Did he suffer--"

"No." Lisa cut in quickly. "No, he wasn't on the bus." Temporary relief washed over Jules' face. "Amber was on the bus and so was House."

"I don't understand. Obviously, House is fine because you said he was here and if Amber..." Juliana's voice trailed off as she noticed that Lisa had stopped making eye contact. Which always meant something was wrong.

"House suffered from Edema, swelling in the temporal lobe, bleeding in the brain, was in and out of a coma for three days, but now he's mostly recovered."

"Mostly?"

"He still can't remember all of the events leading up to the bus crash. Amber, on the hand, suffered from massive injuries, organ failure and Amantadine poisoning. She didn't make it."

"I don't understand," she said quietly. "I talked to him a week ago. He didn't say anything. Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"I thought he had. He told me that you couldn't make it up. Something about a prior engagement--"

"Lisa, you know me. You know that I would have come even if I had to walk the entire way. I would have never left him alone to--"

"I know. I'm so sorry. I should have called you, but I was so preoccupied with House. I don't know. I was focused on House and I should have paid closer attention to Wilson..." her voice trailed off and she looked down and tears flooded her vision. She couldn't bear to look at her friend. She knew she had let down Wilson in that first week and felt horrible about it.

"It's not your fault," Juliana said, taking Cuddy's hand, trying to comfort her. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I know you were worried about House and you were scared you would lose him. You took care of the friend who needed you the most. I understand."

Lisa looked up into Juliana's glassy green eyes and took refuge in the fact that her friend didn't blame her or fault her. Juliana gave Cuddy's hand a final squeeze before releasing it. Sighing, she stood up and wiped her face of tears.

"I need to go and see Wil before heading to the hotel. You don't mind if I leave my suitcase here while I talk to him, do you?"

"No, of course not." As Juliana turned to leave her office, Cuddy stopped her. "There's something else. About James."

Juliana turned to face Lisa, a troubled expression returning to her face. "You said he was okay."

"He's fine physically, but mentally... I could be wrong, but I think... I think that James is dealing.. Or rather not dealing--"

"Lisa, what's wrong with him?"

"He's been drinking. A lot. He doesn't seem drunk, but he's definitely drinking off hours and here at the hospital."

"He wouldn't."

"There have been complaints. Nurses have noticed the faint smell of alcohol on his breath when they pass him in the hall or sit next to him in an exam room. And another doctor has noticed Wilson adding more than creamer to his morning coffee. It's why I called you. I can't talk to him about it. I've tried. I thought that maybe you would be more successful."

"I'm glad you called me. I'm glad I came, but I'm curious--why didn't you just ask House to help? He's right down the hall?"

"Wilson blames House for Amber's death, though he denies it."

"Why would he? You said they were both on the bus. Did House cause the accident?"

"No. House was drinking at a bar and called Wilson to pick him up. Wilson wasn't home, Amber was. She went to retrieve House, he climbed on the bus, she followed him on to make sure he got home alright."

"There's no way he could have known that she--"

"Of course not," Cuddy interrupted. "But Wilson's in pain and he needs someone to lash out at. House is an easy target. Add to that the fact that James asked Greg to risk his life to help Amber--"

Juliana cut Lisa off, "What do you mean risk his life? What did James ask him to do?"

"House was suffering from memory loss and couldn't remember anything. He knew there was something in his memory that would help diagnose Amber. Even though he knew the risks, Wilson asked House to do deep brain stimulation." Juliana's mouth dropped open in disbelief and Lisa continued. "House did it and suffered from a complex partial seizure. The procedure is what caused the brain bleed and the coma."

"I've got to go see Wil. I need to talk to him. I'll know where to go from there. At least, I hope I will." Juliana took a deep breath, walked to the door and unlocked it. Before she opened it, she looked back at Lisa. "You know, when you called me and told me you needed me to come right away, then outside when you said House was here, I swore you were going to tell me that you and House finally got it on."

A soft smile broke on Lisa's face as she shook her head in amusement.

"I really wish that was your news," she called over her shoulder as she left Lisa alone in her office.

* * *

_Clinic hours over for the week. _House had spent the last three hours of his time watching television with a fourteen year-old idiot complaining of a stomachache. The kid wasn't sick and they made an pact, House would write him a note for school if he would stick around until his duty was done.

House grinned as he tossed the patient file on top of a stack Brenda was organizing.

"I'm outtie." No matter how close they got, Cuddy would never let him out of clinic duty. With all the drama that surrounded his life in the past weeks, he took comfort in the idea that something, however small, wouldn't change.

A few minutes later House found himself limping past Wilson's office. He paused and listened at the door. Neil Young. Wilson was still wallowing. House wanted to knock on the door, but thought better of it. On his first day back House came to Wilson's office, sat in the chair across from his friend's desk to lament about how the nurses in the clinic were giving him the most boring cases (at the time he was only allowed to do clinic work because Cuddy insisted he needed recovery time before returning to his regular job). It was his attempt to restore some kind of normalcy. Unfortunately, it didn't work. Wilson sat at his desk and stared at him, barely acknowledging his presence. House made it halfway through his story before Wilson cut him off and asked him to leave so that he could catch up on his work. As Wilson shut the door behind him House knew that things were never going to be the same. That his friend would never really be able to forgive him.

And here he was, weeks later, still outside Wilson's door, hoping it would open, hoping that he would be greeted by his best friend, that they could walk down the hall together, go to lunch together without Cuddy having to babysit them. He even missed the the unwanted advice, insufferable nagging and the unsolicited character studies.

Taking a deep breath, House turned away from the office door and continued on his way. If Wilson's in his office then he wasn't in Cuddy's any more. At least House had one friend to talk to. He hobbled to the elevators and pushed the call button with the end of his cane. While waiting he concentrated on crafting the perfect opening line for his conversation with Cuddy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note (Part One): **Thanks for reading, reviewing and adding the story to your lists. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside! Hope you like it!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"She in?" House asked Cuddy' assistant.

"Yes, but she's busy--" House never heard the end of what-her-name's response, all he needed to know was that Cuddy was in. He had no intention of waiting to be seen. He opened the door to her office and stepped inside quietly. She was engrossed in patient files, the wrinkle between her eyes making an appearance (as it always did when she was concentrating).

"I know what you did," House said in mock-admonishment. "Looks like you'll need to be punished."

House took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. He took notice that for a brief moment, Cuddy looked like had been caught doing something she shouldn't be-- like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. The expression only lasted for a second before the familiar playful smile crossed her face.

"Me? If anyone needs a spanking it's you. How does someone only see one patient while working in the clinic for three hours?"

A grin slid across House's face, "With great skill and determination."

"You're going to have to actually start doing your clinic hours. I can't have the other doctors think I'm playing favorites."

"Are you saying I'm not your favorite?" House asked as he leaned back in his chair. He liked the idea of everyone thinking he was Cuddy's favorite, everyone knowing that he could get away with murder.

"I'm saying that you need to work during your clinic hours."

_Nice. _She didn't answer the question which, of course, meant that he was her favorite. He was her favorite, not Wilson. He wanted to believe it because it meant that someone chose him. She chose him. He pushed the warm feeling it gave him to the back of his brain and convinced himself that particular feeling had no use, no purpose. It would only confuse things. And right now he needed things to be simple, he needed a friend, not a-- whatever. He focused his attention back to the present and his nagging curiosity.

"Wilson was in here a long time," he tried to make the statement casual, but he could tell from the look of understanding she gave him that he had done a horrible job. "What'd you two talk about?"

"Nothing much. I talked and he just kind of sat there."

House studied her for a moment. The afternoon sun coming in through blinds made her dark hair glow a soft mahogany. She was beautiful. Just like yesterday. Just like this morning. He let his eyes travel from her face down to the low v-neck of her top and linger momentarily on her breasts before shaking the inconvenient thoughts from his head. He turned his gaze to meet hers. It was sad, worried. _Pitying. _He couldn't help feel that she pitied him. Hating the look she gave him, he broke the eye contact and glanced around the room.

"You should talk to him," she said softly, trying to make him feel better. "It could go better this time. Maybe he's ready to talk--"

"Is he talking to you?" his tone was unnecessarily harsh, but she seemed to understand.

"He doesn't want to talk to me. He misses you. I can tell. He just needs to remember why the two of you were-- are friends," she hadn't meant to use the past tense. She hoped that House hadn't noticed.

But he had. If Cuddy was using the past tense then Wilson wasn't ready to talk. He needed to change the subject before things got to serious. He didn't want to take out his frustrations on Cuddy and he was tired of her worrying about him. He reminded himself that he needed to keep things simple.

"You going somewhere?" House asked, finally noticing the suitcase sitting in the corner by her desk.

"Huh? Oh no. It... belongs to a potential donor," she lied, hoping he couldn't tell how thrown she was by the question.

House narrowed his eyes; she was lying for some reason. "Where is this donor?"

"Went to tour the hospital," she said as he continued to eye her skeptically. "Didn't want an escort," she added, anticipating his next question.

"You really should give it another shot with Wilson." She knew James was the only thing that would throw him off the scent.

"I should be going," he said, standing up. He had no desire to revisit the subject of his friendship, or rather, former friendship, with Wilson. "My patient needs me."

"Your patient was discharged an hour ago." She hadn't meant to scare him away, she just wanted to stop him from further inquiring about the suitcase.

"Got paperwork to do," he opened the door with his cane-free hand. "Or rather paperwork to make Foreman do." The door shut behind him and when he was out-of-sight, let out a sigh of relief. He was suspicious, but hadn't figured anything out. Yet.

Juliana stopped in front of James' office door. The blinds were drawn, the lights were off. She took a step closer and listened intently, not breathing until she heard the slight rustle of papers from within. He was hiding like he did when she was a child, holed up in his room, in the dark, brooding. She rapped on the door. He didn't answer; she hadn't expected him to. She gave him a few minutes and knocked again. Still quiet. She knew he was sitting in there waiting for her to leave him alone. Remembering there was an alternate entrance to his office, she decided that she was going to have to surprise him. On a mission, she turned and began to briskly walk past the elevators, accidentally bumping into two people as she went, and down a hallway to her right. He couldn't hide from her. She wouldn't let him.

* * *

House rode the elevator up to the Oncology floor. He knew that Wilson wouldn't want to talk to him or see him, but on the off chance Cuddy was right... He decided he would knock and when no one answered, he'd go back down to his office and find something to do.

The doors to the elevator opened, House stepped out and turned towards Wilson's door just in time to see a young brunette standing outside it. He could only see the back of her head, but she seemed familiar. How did he know her? Then girl turned him and started to walk toward him. Unfortunately, the doors to the other elevator opened and Brown stepped out, blocking his line of sight. House stepped to the left to get a better view only to collide with Brown, who had been bowled over by the girl.

"Sorry!" she yelled, not stopping. Before House could collect himself and get a good look, she turned left and disappeared down the hall.

"Thanks a lot, Brown," House said irritably.

"It wasn't my fault. That girl ran right into me. Didn't even stop! Of all the--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... she sucks. You don't recognize her do you?"

"No. Do you?"

"Not sure," House mumbled as he turned left and set off down the hall after her. He made his way completely down the corridor, unsuccessful in his manhunt. When he reached the end of the hall, he decided to surrender for the moment. Thanks to his run-in with Brown, his leg was throbbing. The bottle of Vicodin in his pocket was empty, so he would need to find Chase for a refill. As he shuffled down the hallway, he glanced into an office whose blinds were open and saw the girl outside in the shared courtyard. Wasting no time, he flung the door open and limped to the opposite window.

"Excuse me!" The doctor sitting at his desk yelled, outraged.

"No really, you're fine. I don't mind at all," House replied as he watched the brunette climb over the brick walls that separated each office patio. Then, all of the sudden it hit him. It had to be her, she's the only other person who would invade Wilson's space without a second thought.

House left the office and ignored the occupying doctor who continued to complain about invasion of privacy and human decency. How did she know to come? Who told her? There was only one explanation. _Cuddy._ House angrily propelled himself toward the elevators. As he jabbed the button he wasn't sure what pissed him off more-- that she was here or that Cuddy called her.

* * *

**Author's Note (Part Two): **Next time, confrontation-- which is always fun!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the continued interest. Hope you like the chapter-- I struggled a bit with the confrontation. Hope it doesn't seem OOC. Again, I don't own this stuff, wish I did!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Wilson stood silently behind his desk until he heard the footsteps move away from the door. There was some brief commotion outside, but when he was sure he was left alone, he turned back to the bookshelf. Probably House he thought to himself as he took out the bottle of scotch masked by his bear. Wilson moved his coffee cup from his desk to the shelf of his bookcase, taking care to make sure that his body was blocking his actions from anyone that might pass by and glance through his back window. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a swig before pouring a generous amount in his cup. It had come to this. Cheap scotch. From Ardbeg to some North American crap probably made from toilet water. But that's what it took him to get though the day. Tears ran down his cheek as he thought of her. He sipped his coffee, then capped and returned the bottle to its hiding place, stiffening as he heard his the back door to his office open. _House._

* * *

Juliana stood at the glass door and watched Wil for a moment before going in. She knew what he was doing even though his back impeded her view. Her thoughts briefly strayed to their brother Joe and how much James reminded her of him at that moment. She hated herself for thinking it. Wiping the disappointment from her face and replacing it with anger, she swung the door open and stepped inside.

"House, I'm busy," Wilson said mechanically. There was a movement of fabric as someone moved toward him. "House," he began, while turning to face the visitor, but the rest of the sentence died on his tongue before he could finish it.

Juliana's planned outrage, determination, confrontation melted away when she saw her older brother's red eyes. She took in the dark circles, the unkempt hair, the shadow of a beard, the rumpled appearance as her heart broke. Unable to say anything, she walked around the desk and embraced him. He bent down and weakly returned the hug.

"I wish you hadn't come," he said sadly.

"I wish you had told me about Amber," she responded quietly.

He didn't want to cry in front of Jules, to worry her, but the mention of Amber, hearing her name out loud, caused tears to slide down his cheeks. Juliana could feel the weight of her brother's sobs shake his body as she held him tightly, afraid that if she let go she'd lose him entirely.

* * *

The door flew open and smacked into the wall with an angry thud. A startled Lisa Cuddy looked up from her mountain of paperwork to see a livid Greg House limping toward her fast.

"House, what's wrong?" she asked concerned and a little bit frightened. She hadn't seen him this irate in a long time, well before the accident. He surprised her by not stopping in front of her desk, but making his way around it, glaring at her.

"House?" Cuddy said uneasily as he drew closer. She saw his arm move out of her peripheral vision and flinched, for a moment she thought he was going to strike her. House took a sharp intake of breath at her movement, irritated she could think he would hit her. Before Cuddy realized what he was doing, he reached across her, grabbed the luggage tag and yanked it free from the suitcase sitting beside her desk. He read the name of the bag's owner and confirmed what he already suspected. Violently, he tossed the tag onto Cuddy's desk, then limped back around the other side where he stood, glowering down at her.

"Had to," she said simply. "He needed her. "

"We had an agreement!" he seethed. "You and Wilson and I stood here, in this office--"

"I know," she interrupted. "But--"

"You both agreed that I would never have to see her again! That you would take every precaution to keep her away--"

"There wasn't any time--"

"No time to tell me?! I'm pretty sure you had time yesterday and this morning and this afternoon and when I asked you about the damn suitcase! You could have told me then!"

"I thought maybe you wouldn't have to know--"

"Right!" he screamed at her, not sure that the situation warranted such anger, but unable to control it.

"I didn't want to upset you more than you already--"

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy! Thank you for worrying about me! Taking my feelings into consideration and completely ignoring them!"

"I had to call her!" she bellowed back, rising from her seat.

"You know how I feel about her and you brought her here anyway!"

"Wilson needs her!"

"Well, if Wilson needs something, then, by all means--"

"Don't start! Don't you dare start!" she yelled, rounding the desk to close the gap between them.

"Wilson, he's so sweet and sensitive! He needs this," House said nastily in a mocking, feminine voice. "House is already miserable, so who cares what--"

"What was I supposed to do? He needs to talk to someone. He won't open up to me! Have you had any luck?" she spat, briefly pausing for his response. "I didn't think so! He won't talk to me, he won't talk to you, he won't talk to Cameron or Chase or Foreman! He and his brother barely exchange Christmas cards! So you tell me what I was supposed to do!"

"You could have told me!"

"What good would that have done? You still would have thrown your temper tantrum!"

"You could have given me the day off! Sent me to a convention! That's what you usually do!"

"Silly me, I thought that if I gave you the day off for no reason you would think that I thought you needed a break! That I thought you hadn't recovered! That I'd lost faith in you! I didn't send you to a convention because you hate them and I figured that you would think I sent you away because I didn't want to have you around! You've just come out of a coma and lost your best friend, I didn't want you to feel more rejected!"

"Thanks for the pity. I take it where I can get it!" House said with a sneer.

"Oh shut-up! I'm not pitying you! I'm sympathizing, you ass! I know you're unfamiliar with the concept of friendship, but sometimes when a friend is going through rough time, a person will understand! Try to be thoughtful! You know, _care_!"

House continued to scowl at her, but sat down to massage his leg. His fury had propelled him to Cuddy's office, his need for Vicodin forgotten. But now the pain was yelling louder than Cuddy was.

She plopped down in the chair beside him and took a deep breath to quiet herself. "I know you hate her, but Wilson needs help. He's drinking. People have noticed. I can't deal with it. I don't know how to begin, where to begin. I'm no good at this stuff. I couldn't get you to stop popping Vicodin like breath mints. He needs someone that can help him. She's his best bet."

She waited for a reply, but House kept rubbing his thigh, grimacing, staring at the ground. Watching him she felt a twinge of guilt. He was being an idiot, but she knew that he was in so much pain. Not so much physically, but mentally. Wilson rebuffing House's attempts at reconciliation hurt him, not that that was an excuse for him to barge into her office and berate her. She wanted to comfort him in some way, to let him know that even if he acted like an ass, she would still be around. Physical comfort seemed the easiest, since there seemed to be nothing she could say to convince him that she genuinely cared for him, that she was there for him. She scooted her chair closer to his and tentatively reached out to touch his injured leg. He bristled for a moment at the contact, reminding himself that he was pissed with her, that he had every right to be. When he didn't push her hand away, she gently started to knead his thigh. His anger slowly faded into appreciation as she gently worked his sore muscle. House took solace in the attentiveness she showed him, the ease in which she could forgive him, or at least, temporarily forget his behavior. He relaxed and began to wonder how their friendship would end. What would he do or say that would turn her away from him? Like Stacey. Like Cameron and Foreman and Chase. Like Wilson.

Sensing he had calmed, Lisa decided to break the silence. "It's not her fault she's smart, you know."

"I don't care that she's smart," he said bitterly. When he noticed Cuddy raising her eyebrows he quickly added, "Well, it's not the reason I don't like her."

"Stacy's not her fault either. You screwed that up yourself."

"If she hadn't said what she said... We would have had another month or two, maybe more... if she hadn't been pushed--"

"No one was pushed, House. She didn't even know who Stacey was. All she knew was that Stacey was waiting to see Wilson. She could have been a patient, another doctor, anyone. Stacey sat next to her, opened up to her. For Jules, that was huge. She was 18 and had no friends. She was desperate to connect with someone outside her family. And it's not like you didn't make her life miserable afterwards." Cuddy changed her matter-of-fact tone to a more compassionate one, "It's been a long time. You should try to move on."

"Yeah. I'll do that." House would have been content to sit there and let Cuddy keep rubbing his thigh, but had no interest in continuing the conversation they were having. He didn't like Juliana and he wasn't going to start just because Cuddy suggested it. House took his cane from where he leaned it against the side of his chair and stood up.

"Are you leaving?" He noted the surprise and concern in her voice and almost felt guilty for going.

"Got to find Chase. I'm out of Vicodin. But don't worry, I'll be back later; I've got something else that could use a rub down." With a waggle of his eyebrows, House exited, his limp a little more pronounced than usual, leaving Cuddy relieved that they still weren't fighting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note (Part One): **Thanks for sticking around to read and review! Please forgive any beer related faux pas-- I'm not a big drinker, so I had to rely on a few beer snob friends of mine. This chapter took a while, so I decided to stop nit-picking and just post it. Hopefully the next chapter won't be as stubborn. Hope you enjoy... and please review, won't you?

Oh yeah, Gregory House, Lisa Cuddy, James Wilson and the world they inhabit belong to someone much cooler (and much richer) than me.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Two pints of Guinness," House directed the twenty-something bartender.

"I don't like Guinness" Cuddy frowned as the attractive barkeep laid a glass in front of her. "It's like drinking a loaf of bread."

"Who said it was for you?" He replied, sliding the glass to sit beside his and taking a swig of beer.

"Excuse me," Cuddy motioned to the bartender. "Can I have a glass of white wine?"

"It's boggin'," the bartender replied in a thick Scottish drawl.

"Bogging?" said Cuddy, confused.

He leaned over the bar and grinned. "It's shite."

"Oh." Lisa blushed. He was flirting with her. Or, at least, she thought he was. It had been so long since someone flirted with her she felt like she might not be able to recognize it. "What do you recommend?"

_Unbelievable._ House could not believe that Cuddy was making eyes at this idiot with his carefully tousled hair, indie t-shirt and faux-vintage jeans. He stifled gagging noises and pretended to be transfixed by the game on the pub television so he could listen in without seeming interested in their exchange.

"Try this," the bartender said, pouring a bottle of beer into a cold glass. "It's Scottish ale. Warm, sweet and complex. Unlike Guinness, which can sometimes be too heavy and bitter depending on the style."

Though out of practice, Lisa was pretty sure that last remark was a subtle jab at her drinking companion. He placed the glass in front of her with a seductive smile. She returned it before picking up the glass and taking a sip. Cuddy had never been a beer drinker, she preferred wine or a cocktail, but found herself pleasantly surprised by the flavor. It tasted like smoky caramel with a hint of warm chocolate. "It's really very good."

"Better than Guinness any day." She couldn't help but laugh. The bartender was definitely coming on to her.

House had decided that was it. First William Wallace insulted his beer, then insulted him, but the laugh was the last straw. Low, tempting, breathy. That was his laugh, the one Cuddy reserved for him. He turned to face them; the Scot gaping at Cuddy while she drank her beer, blushing.

"Isn't he just a dream?" House mocked. The sexy smile on Cuddy's face was quickly replaced by terror. "Listen, Franz Ferdinand, we were thinking of turning our twosome into a threesome. Interested? Wait, are you a front or back-door man--"

"House!" Cuddy interrupted, mortified.

"If myself prefer the--"

"House!" Cuddy practically screamed his name.

"Excuse me. Customer." The bartender pointed down the bar to a couple college girls and excused himself.

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"You should thank me."

"Thank you? For what exactly?"

"For saving you. That guy only wanted one thing and it wasn't to sell you a glass of beer."

"I know!"

"Are you saying you--"

"Maybe. I'll never know now. You ruined it."

"How could you like that guy? He's one of those people who listen to obscure singer-songwriters wearing his high school sports shirt and weathered jeans, walking around in his Chuck Taylors with his messenger bag, having deep conversations about Elvis Costello, Post Modernism and the Cabbage Patch Kids. Do you really want to sleep with someone that full of pretentious bullshit?"

"I slept with you, didn't I?" she smirked. "And besides, what does it matter if I do want to sleep with someone like that? Why do you care?"

He shrugged, "I don't."

"Right," she said, taking satisfaction in the fact that he was, at least, a little jealous, even if he wouldn't admit it.

* * *

Wilson lay spread on top of his bed clutching a white blouse, fully clothed, red-nosed and snoring. Jules, stood over him, watching his chest rise and fall as he slept, worried. As soon as he was out for the evening, she had taken the opportunity to search his apartment, or, rather, Amber's apartment. 28 bottles. She had found 28 bottles, half hidden, and she hadn't even checked the bedroom for fear she would wake him up. Six were empty, discarded in the kitchen garbage can, and most were Scotch. She recognized the one their parents gave him when he graduated from medical school, which James had been saving it for retirement, sitting on the coffee table nearly drained.

Jules let her mind briefly wander back to that street corner. How angry Wil was, how defensive Joe was and her, standing there like an idiot, torn between them. Looking down at James' slumbering form, it was impossible to believe that this was the same man. The man who years early condemned his younger brother for his vices; chastised him for his gambling, screamed at him for his irresponsibility, damned him for his addiction. He looked lost even while sleeping, his brow furrowed and his expression pained.

She knew that tomorrow they would have to talk about his loss, about his drinking. It wouldn't be pleasant, most likely he would brush off her concerns. She dreaded it, but not as much as she feared losing another brother to alcohol. Jules threw a blanket over James and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She set the alarm on her phone before curling up on the couch and nodding off to sleep.

* * *

"Give me your keys." Cuddy held out her hand, waiting.

"I'm fine."

"Give me your keys, House," she said firmly.

House rolled his eyes and tossed her his keys. After catching them clumsily, Cuddy paid their bar tab and grabbed her coat. "You know, just once it would be nice for you to pay. After all, you're the one always dragging me to these places."

"Not like you would have anything better to do," House said as he got up from his stool, stumbling slightly.

She quickly wrapped an arm around him for support. "Did you really need that fourth pint?"

"Need? No. Want? Yes." House draped his arm over Cuddy's shoulder as the shuffled toward the door.

"Would you like some help?" Much to House's irritation, the Scot had decided to temporarily leave his post and offer his assistance.

"No thanks, laddie. We're good," House snapped.

"Actually, I'd love some help. Thanks," Cuddy accepted gratefully, but not before shooting House a look. The bartender slid behind her and took her place supporting House leaving her free to hold open the door.

The three of them walked down the street in silence mostly, only peppered with House's complaints. When they finally reached Cuddy's car, the bartender helped House to the front seat and shut the door.

Greg watched in the side mirror as he heard Cuddy thank the Scot. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help." As she turned to walk away, the bartender caught her hand.

"In case you ever get tired of Guinness," he said suggestively as he slipped a piece of paper into her hand.

House frowned as he saw Cuddy smile warmly, circle the car and wave to the bartender as opened the door and got in

"Guess he changed his mind the Cuddy sandwich. Either that or he needs a green card."

She laughed and shook her head, but didn't answer. They rode in silence the rest of the way; he lost in thought, studying her carefully, she flattered and excited that someone still found her attractive.

* * *

**Author's Note (Part Two): **Next time, weepiness-- had to happen sometime.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note (Part One):** Thanks so much for the continued reviews, reads and story alerts... they make me super happy! Sorry this took forever. I went on (a very short) holiday. More exposition... no weepiness. I didn't want to write it just yet, so I decided to save it for next time. Hope you like it! Also, I wish I owned the rights to House, but I don't.

**Chapter 6**

A loud buzzing filled the room and James Wilson stirred languidly. He turned over, groping blindly for the off button on his alarm clock before successfully turning it off. He opened his eyes reluctantly and passed a hand over his chin, deciding that there wasn't enough hair there to waste energy shaving. He reached over to grab the bottle of scotch on his bedside table only to realize it wasn't there. Figuring his sister had moved it, for whatever reason, he climbed out of bed and padded toward the bedroom door. Remembering that Jules was sleeping on the couch, he quietly opened it and stepped into the hall. Even from a distance he could make out the bottles she had collected and placed on the coffee table, so many that they obscured her slumbering form from his view. Knowing that she would want to talk and desperately wanting to avoid the conversation, Wilson decided it would be best to throw on some clothes and head to the hospital before Juliana woke up.

* * *

"House. House. House," Cuddy said forcefully while shaking House's shoulder. He remained unmoved by the action; still snoring, deep asleep. House had passed out on her sofa thanks to the amount of alcohol he had consumed the night earlier. She frowned at the spot his drool left on her upholstery, but was thankful he hadn't gotten sick. "House!" she yelled as she smacked his arm.

He stirred and groaned loudly. "What time is it?"

"6:30," she said hands on her hips, continuing to stand over him, waiting for him to move.

"It's practically the break of dawn. I'm trying to sleep one off, Nurse Ratched," he whined, squinting at the light overhead.

"If you want a ride to pick up your bike, then you better get up and get ready. I'm leaving in forty-five minutes." She shoved him again for good measure.

"You're so annoying sometimes. At least when Wilson wakes me up he cooks for me," House complained, fully opening his eyes, sitting up. He yawned and rubbed his face, glancing up at Cuddy for the first time that morning. She was fresh out of the shower and smelled of coconut, her hair still wet and her robe clung to her slightly. He took a moment to appreciate her form and thought about what it might be like waking up to the sight every morning before shoving the thought to the back of his mind.

"I'm not Wilson."

"That's true. You've got a much nicer rack."

She smiled and shook her head, "Forty-five minutes, House. I left you a set of towels in the guest bathroom." Before he could suggest she join him, Cuddy had set off down the hall to get dressed.

* * *

_Dun, Dun-nah-nah, Dun-nah-nah. _The opening guitar riff of AC/DC's "Back in Black" started again, rousing Jules from her sleep. She dug in the couch cushions a good minute and a half before finding her phone and turing off the alarm. Inhaling deadly, she rose from the sofa and stumbled toward the kitchen, carried by the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"Wil, do you care if I swipe some coffee?" she yelled. When he didn't respond, she figured he couldn't hear her and grabbed a mug from the cabinet by the stove. She saw his note on the counter beside the coffee maker.

_Jules- _

_Went in early, needed to get some work done. Made you some coffee. There's a leftover Belgium Waffle in the microwave with your name on it. Syrup's in the pantry. _

_See you later, Wil_

She knew he had gone in early, not to do work, but avoid her. Sighing, she poured herself a cup of coffee and punched thirty seconds on the microwave. Juliana had hoped they would be able to sit down that morning, have a heart-to-heart; he would promise to stop drinking and she would be relieved. Unfortunately, it was going to be harder than that. She was going to have to follow him to work and hunt him down so they could have it out in his office.

"House! I'm leaving in five minutes! What could be taking you so long in there?" Cuddy yelled, banging on the bathroom door. Suddenly, it swung open and House stepped out, nearly standing on top of her. She stood there for a moment, startled by his sudden appearance and the proximity of their bodies.

"Do you _mind_?" he asked, eyebrows raised. She stepped aside, allowing him to limp past her, toward the couch where he began putting on his shoes. "With the way you were standing there, I thought you were push me into the bathroom and have your way with me."

"In your dreams," she said, blushing slightly. Cuddy picked up her purse, planner and keys from the table by the front door. "I'll be in the car. Just pull the door shut, it should lock behind you."

He mumbled a quick "okay" in response as she left the house. House finished trying his laces, stood up, threw on his jacket, grabbed his cane and headed toward the door. Before he departed, a small piece of white paper on the edge of the entryway table caught his eye.

_Call me sometime._

_609-739-9626_

_Rory_

Greg balled up the number and shoved it deep in his pocket, deciding to dispose of it when he got to the hospital. He smiled mischievously as he hobbled out the front door towards Cuddy's car.

* * *

Twelve minutes after searching for James' set of spare keys, Juliana found them among the liquor bottles on the coffee table. She slipped on her sandals and picked up her purse before heading outside. Greeting the cab driver, Jules climbed into the back seat, hoping she would have a chance to talk to Wil before any of his patients came in.

* * *

"You know you wasted a perfectly good opportunity last night. I was drunk and completely defenseless, you could have taken advantage of me," House joked as they passed the pub.

Cuddy laughed. "Hey, where'd you leave your bike? I thought you parked it in front of the bar."

"I did."

She pulled over to the curb. "Well, it's not here now."

House flung open the car door and limped to the space where he last saw his motorcycle. "Great! Somebody stole my bike! If you would have just let me drive--"

"You would have killed yourself!" She reached in her purse and found her cell phone. "I'll call the police."

"Fat lot of good that will do. Those idiots couldn't find their asses with two hands and a map!" While she was talking to the police she watched House continued to grumble and pace furiously on the sidewalk.

"Okay, thanks." Cuddy sighed as she shut her phone and rolled down the window. "Get back in the car."

"We've got to wait for the po-po to show."

"Your bike wasn't stolen; it was towed."

"Towed?!" he screamed, crossing the street.

"You didn't have a permit or a plate. I guess they assumed that a handicap person couldn't ride a motorcycle."

After letting a few choice curse words fall from his lips, House directed his anger at Cuddy. "This is all your fault! If you would have--"

"House, shut up and get in the car." She watched as he rounded the car in a huff, moodily plopped in the front seat and slammed the door. "I'll take you to get it after work."

"How much is this shit going to cost me?"

"You only have to pay to get the car out of impound. They will drop the fine for parking in a handicap spot since I assured them that you were handicapped and that, as your doctor, I would fax them a letter confirming your condition. They suggested you update your tag so you can avoid similar situations in the future."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"150 dollars."

"I shouldn't have to pay anything! I _am_ handicapped!"

"You have to have a permit or a plate to park there. You had neither. You're lucky that they're not making you pay the 600 dollar fine and the 150 impound fee."

"It's ridiculous! They--"

"I'll pay the fee if you stop complaining about it!"

House glowered at her, but agreed with a terse, "Fine."

They rode in silence the rest of the way to the hospital.

* * *

Lisa parked the car in her space, the closest non-handicap one to the elevator on the first floor of the parking deck. She leaned over, reaching behind her seat (unknowingly giving House a first-rate view of her cleavage) and snatched her things. She had no intention to wait for House, subjecting herself to more of his bad mood. The sight of Cuddy's breasts at such a close perspective lifted House's spirits briefly. Although she shut her door and quickly walked to the elevator, House was close behind her. He managed to make it to the lift just as the elevator arrived. Cuddy sighed loudly as they stepped inside and the door shut behind them.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to ditch me," he said grumpily.

"Hard to imagine why. You're such a ray of sunshine today."

"I've got a hangover and my bike was stolen."

"Impounded."

"Whatever."

* * *

Juliana paid the cab driver, thanked him and entered the lobby of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, making a beeline for the elevators. She pushed the call button and after a few seconds, the lift to her right arrived. The doors opened and she found herself face-to-face with a frustrated Lisa Cuddy and a surly Greg House. He glared at her as she stepped in, clearly unhappy with her presence. Juliana turned and hit the fourth floor button even though it was already lit.

"Good morning, Lisa," she said brightly.

"Morning, Jules," Cuddy replied with a smile.

"House," she said coldly.

She heard him exhale and tap his cane on the floor violently before speaking, "Let's get something straight--"


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Thanks for the continued reviews, reads and subscriptions. Reviews are to me as Vicodin is to House. Finally wrote some sadness, but, not to worry, next chapter will probably have some more fun Cuddy/House stuff to balance it out. Hope you like it! And I don't own "House."

* * *

_Previously in "The Stranger and Stronger Face":_

_Juliana paid the cab driver, thanked him and entered the lobby of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, making a beeline for the elevators. She pushed the call button and after a few seconds, the lift to her right arrived. The doors opened and she found herself face-to-face with a frustrated Lisa Cuddy and a surly Greg House. He glared at her as she stepped in, clearly unhappy with her presence. Juliana turned and hit the fourth floor button even though it was already lit. _

"_Good morning, Lisa," she said brightly._

"_Morning, Jules," Cuddy replied with a smile._

"_House," she said coldly._

_She heard him exhale and tap his cane on the floor violently before speaking, "Let's get something straight--"_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Here we go," groaned Jules.

"_House..._" Cuddy warned in a hushed tone. He shot her a dirty look before continuing.

"I have no desire to talk to you, I don't want to see you and I certainly don't want to engage in social niceties with you--"

"Like you're even capable of engaging in social niceties," Juliana snapped.

"The only reason why I've let you come into my hospital is because Cuddy informed me that it was a necessity. That being said, I don't want to bump into you ever again. So stay off the elevators, stay away from my office and don't eat lunch in the cafeteria between one and two. We clear?," he finished in the most intimidating tone he had.

"Yes."

"Good," he said and returned to face the front of the elevator, ignoring her once again.

"Now let _me_ make something clear. I _will_ ride the elevators if I want to, I _will_ go where I want, and I _will_ eat lunch whenever I damn well please. I don't care if you don't want to see me; I am not concerned about how my presence might effect your delicate sensibilities. I am here to see Wil. I'm here for _him_. You and your feelings don't even register. I am not your intern any more; I am not one of you fellows," her voice started to rise.

"Since we last saw each other I've changed, I've gotten older, I've matured, I am not scared of you. I am, however, still smarter than you. True, there was a point in time where I cared about what you thought, but I stopped caring when you started making my professional life hell on earth. I guess I was under the delusion that you could actually be civil, that you might've grown up, but, unfortunately, you're pitching the same temper tantrums. It is not my fault _you_ screwed up _your_ relationship with _your_ girlfriend. It is not my fault she chose to leave you. I didn't do or say anything wrong. What happened was not my fault. I apologized hundreds of times, I am not going to indulge you any further, I am not going to beg for your forgiveness. It's been years. _Move on_."

Before House could answer her, the elevator doors slid open and Juliana got out. "I'll see you later, Lisa," she said quietly before taking off down the hall toward Wilson's office.

House stood in the lift, fuming, paralyzed by anger.

"House," Cuddy said softly, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

He jerked away from her touch and started to limp out onto the fourth floor, banging his cane on the ground with added force. Before the elevator doors closed he turned and said to Cuddy, "Keep her away from me. I know you're incompetent, but hopefully you won't screw this up." He spun around and continued down the corridor to his office, leaving a hurt Cuddy in his wake.

* * *

Jules flung open the door and entered James' office without knocking, catching him completely off-guard.

"You must be having a great day," he said as she slammed the door behind her and stood in front of his desk, arms crossed.

"I had a run-in with House on the elevator on the way up," she grumbled.

"Well, that explains things," he said, taking a long drink of coffee.

Juliana closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. As she opened them, she saw Wil sipping on his coffee and remembered the real reason she had come to Princeton Plainsboro that morning.

"We need to talk," she said solemnly.

He looked down, pretending to leaf through some files on his desk. "It will have to wait."

"It can't."

"It will have to. I have patients."

"Patients can wait," she said firmly.

"I don't want to do this here."

"Well, I don't want to wait."

He closed the file he was pretending to read, stood up and looked into her eyes, meeting her angry gaze. "This can hold--"

"No, it can't."

"Well, it will have to. I have patients that need to see their doctor, they need medication, they need reassurance, they need--"

"They need you to be sober." The words made his stomach drop, his breath momentarily caught in his throat.

"Listen, I know you think that you need to be worried about me, but you don't. I have everything under control."

"What exactly do you have under control?"

"It's not a big deal. I have a drink every now and then to cope, to help me get through the day."

She nodded to his coffee cup, "Are you coping now?"

"Really, you have nothing to worry about," he said reassuring her.

"So, those 28 bottles of booze I found in your apartment, they weren't yours? That's a relief. Here I thought that you were an alcoholic. But it's good to know that you have it all under control," she said sarcastically.

"Fine. If it makes you feel better, I'll stop. I _can_ stop. I'm not an alcoholic. "

"You're drinking at work, in the middle of the day! You're hiding bottles! Cuddy says you don't do anything more, you don't bowl, you don't go movies, you just go to bars! The nurses can smell it on you! Doctors have seen you adding the pick-me-up to your morning coffee! There have been complaints! You could lose your job, you could lose your license! You can't even admit that you might have a problem!"

"I'll stop. I'll stop," he sighed, "Now, can I get back to work?"

Juliana stared at him concerned for a couple of moments, then she walked to his bookshelf, opened the leftmost glass door and began rummaging through things.

"Can I help you find something?"

"No," she said flatly, continuing her search. She moved a stack of books on the top shelf, finding a bottle of scotch hidden behind them. She put it on his desk. Wilson exhaled sharply, tired of the conversation and all the drama that went with it. Jules moved the medical journals and texts littering the second and bottom shelves, finding three airplane-sized bottles of scotch and tossing them on the desk before moving on to the middle of the case.

"I really do have to get back to work," he said, exasperated.

Juliana ignored him and continued her search. Two small bottles behind the globe, a flask behind the trophy, a large one behind the bear. She kept moving, gently shoving Wilson into the corner while she found two more bottles in the right cabinet.

Before Jules could move onto the desk, James grabbed her hand and said, "If you wanted a drink you could have just asked. I am willing to share. There was no need to make a mess."

She looked up at him, brow furled, tears welling up in her eyes, a hard expression on her face. He crossed his arms, guilty for making his sister cry, angry at her invasion of his privacy.

"Look," she said, motioning to the collection of bottles on his desk. "Ten. Just from the bookshelf. Who knows how many are in the desk or hidden in the couch cushions."

He rolled his eyes, "Nine. Technically, the flask is not a bottle. And I don't hide bottles in the sofa, they make the couch lumpy."

"Stop! Stop making jokes!"

"You're right, this is serious." Wilson picked up a large, depleted bottle from his desk. "I'm almost out of Johnnie Walker. You think you could drive me to the liquor store down the street to get some? I'd drive myself, but being that I'm so drunk, I wouldn't want to break the law."

"Listen to yourself! You sound like--"

"House? I sound like House? That's what you were going to say, right?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"House is an addict. I am not an addict," he replied.

"38 bottles. I found 38 bottles and I didn't finish searching your apartment or your office. You're an addict."

"What do you want me to do then?" he asked, defensively.

"Check yourself into rehab."

"I don't have a problem, I don't need to go to rehab."

"You've got to stop drinking! It's affecting your work, your personality--"

"Fine. I'll stop. I promise."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not Joe. I'm not House," he said sincerely, looking her in the eye. "I said I'll stop and I'll stop."

"Completely?"

"Completely."

"That means not alcohol of any kind."

"I promise. No alcohol of any kind."

"You have to throw away all the--"

"Done," he said, sweeping the bottles on his desk into the wastebasket, piling them on top of one another. "I guess I need to call maintenance."

For the first time since she had barged into his office, Juliana's expression softened.

"If you don't... I you can't stop... You'll check into rehab?"

"I don't need to--"

"You'll go to rehab?" she asked more forcefully.

"Yes."

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she nodded. Wilson closed the gap between them and gave her a hug. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine," he assured her. "I'll be fine."

"I hope so," she whispered. "I guess I'll see you later on tonight," she said pulling away.

"We can do a little housecleaning."

"I'll leave you to your patients then," she said with a watery smile, leaving his office.

As he watched the door shut, he picked up his phone and dialed ext. 9665.

"Hello? Yes, I've got some trash that needs to be picked up as soon as possible."

* * *

House's watch read 4:53. The day had passed at a snail's pace. With no new case he was forced to catch up on his charts and do time at the clinic. He had remained in a miserable mood all day, replaying the conversation in the elevator over and over again in his mind. She was right. Everything Juliana had said was dead on and it pissed him off that it was. House also couldn't stop thinking about Cuddy and the hurt expression he had left on her face that morning. She looked like he had struck her. He knew that she didn't deserve the anger he directed toward her, especially since she was the last person he felt any real connection with now that Wilson had disowned him.

He stood outside the glass doors, looking into Cuddy's office and watching her shuffle papers, engrossed in the work she was doing. He took a deep breath and entered, hoping she had already forgotten what he said to her.

"Ready to go get my bike out of impound?"

She didn't look up. "I have work to finish," she said cooly.

"Got to go now. I have to pick it up before six or I have to wait until tomorrow. And then it will cost you twice as much."

Cuddy put her pen down and sighed. "Fine. Let's get it over with." Standing up, she circled the desk and walked to the coat rack. She took off her lab coat and replaced it with her suit jacket.

He looked down and absentmindedly tapped his cane a couple of times. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She turned, freeing her hair from the back of her jacket. "What?"

"For earlier. You're not incompetent. I was angry, but I shouldn't have... Sorry," he said awkwardly. Apologizing wasn't something he did well or often.

She grabbed her purse from the rack. "Come on. Let's go get your bike. Then we can get a drink, but only one. I don't want to have to carry you again."

"Great. There's this new bar near by apartment. Expensive cocktails, lousy beer-- you'd love it."

"I was thinking we'd just go back to the pub," she said with a grin as they walked to the elevators.

He frowned, "We're not going back there."

"Why not?"

"They had my bike towed! Plus, the bartender is an idiot. What kind of man doesn't like Guinness?"

"I liked him."

"Of course you liked him, you mooned over him all night. And with that low-cut top, fuck-me pumps and the look of total desperation in your eyes, I don't want you to do anything you would regret in the morning."

She laughed. Low, tempting, breathy. He smiled, knowing he was forgiven.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note (Part One): **Finally! This chapter is done! I got sidetracked by the arrival of my new Pyro A/V Link and have been loading all kinds of "House" clips on my computer for crazy fan-vid purposes (I can't help it... I have an addiction!). This chapter is kind of ehh. That's how I feel about it anyway. I needed something between the last chapter and the next one, so I had to write it. Mostly just filler and exposition. Hopefully interesting filler and exposition though. Thanks for all the continued support. It is beyond awesome and makes me uber-happy. Hope you like it! Oh yeah, I don't own this stuff, other people do.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"We have so got to come drinking here more often," House said watching the passing figure of a hip twenty-something. "Hot girls _and_ free drinks, what could be better? Listen, the next time some guy offers to buy you a drink ask for a beer. I'm getting tired of all these fruity chick drinks."

House took a swig of the cosmopolitan he had borrowed from Cuddy. Every man who had hit on her that evening had either been well over sixty or had a tan-line on their ring finger. Lisa never felt like so much of a loser. There were plenty of men her own age at the bar, but, like House, they were too preoccupied ogling girls half their age. She finished her second cocktail of the night, a martini compliments of an elderly gentleman named Barnaby, and decided that she had had enough.

"Where are you going?" House asked suspiciously watching Cuddy slide out of her seat and pick up her purse.

"I want a beer."

"Let's order you one, then," he said, motioning to the bartender.

"House, I'm leaving. Do you think you can make it home?"

"But you just said you want a beer--"

"Not from here."

He narrowed his eyes, "Where do you want to have this beer?"

"Can you make it home okay?"

"Are you going back to the pub to flirt with that bartender?"

"Do I need to call you a cab?"

"Oh my God, you are! But he's not even good looking! Or successful!"

"House, I'm leaving now. Hopefully you'll make it home." She turned and began to walk to the door. He grabbed his cane, jumped off his chair and hobbled quickly to close the gap between them. When he made his way out of the bar, he saw her heading down the street to her car.

"Hey! Hey Cuddy!" he yelled after her. She sighed and turned around, pausing so he could catch up. "Trying to ditch me?" he asked loudly, limping towards her.

"Looks like I wasn't successful," she smiled.

"But I thought we were having a good time," he pouted. He was lying, he knew she was miserable.

"You were having a good time, I was ready to leave after being hit on by that sixty-year-old man."

"Which one?," he grinned.

She shook her head. "A bar full of men and the only ones who find me attractive are elderly or married."

"That's not true." She raised her eyebrows. "You forgot that guy with the eyepatch. I think he was in his mid-fifties."

"I'm going home," she said as she unlocked her car doors.

"I thought you wanted a beer."

"I did, but you're here now, so there's no point in me going any more."

"Give me a ride?"

"Get in the car."

"That's not what I meant," he said, wagging his eyebrows.

Cuddy laughed as she got in her Lexus and closed the door. House hopped in the passenger side, placing his cane over his lap and shut the door. Cuddy waited for House to buckle his seatbelt and after he reluctantly did, they sped off down the street.

* * *

"That's the last of it," James said, picking up an empty flask and tossing it in a large, black trash bag.

"I still have to check the bathroom," Jules called to him while she searched under the bed.

"What kind of person keeps liquor in the bathroom?"

"An alcoholic," she replied, getting up from with floor with an empty bottle in her hand. He sighed loudly.

"After the bathroom, you're done, right?" he asked, exasperated. "Because you've checked and re-checked every room in this apartment. There's nowhere left I could hide anything. You even know where I keep my adult videos... And sisters really shouldn't know those kind of things." He understood her concern, but was growing tired of her almost complete lack of faith in him. After he finished a room, she had to do her own sweep just to be sure.

"I know it's annoying, but I just want to be sure. I... remember how it is. Not that you're like him, but Joe--"

"You're right, I'm not like him." Wilson angered at the comparison.

"Still... I just want to be completely sure."

"Then you'll stop and go to bed?"

Jules smiled, "Then I'll stop, you can go to bed. I'm probably going to watch re-runs of "Psych" on USA. There's a marathon tonight." She tossed the bottle in the trash bag and headed down the hall to bathroom.

"It's not going to be like this forever, right? You'll trust me again?" he asked knotting the top of the garbage bag.

Sticking her head out of the bathroom, she looked at him with a sad smile on her face. "I still trust you. I just hope I'm not being naïve." Jules disappeared back into the bathroom while Wilson collapsed on the couch, staring at the garbage. He wondered how he let himself collect enough liquor and empty bottles to fill a 39-gallon trash bag.

* * *

"Why don't I just drop you off at home and then you can take your car to the hospital?'

"Because I shouldn't be driving and you live right down the street from the hospital. It's not like it's out of your way." House's beeper had gone off three times since they had left the bar. Usually he would just ignore the damn thing, but he was with Cuddy and she insisted he call Foreman.

"How will you get home afterwards? Walk?"

"I'll get Kutner to take me. Or, better yet, Thirteen--"

"Fine. I'll drop you off because if I don't you won't go in."

"You know me so well."

"How is it that I went from being Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital to your personal chauffeur, butler and drinking buddy?," Cuddy asked herself out loud.

"It's because I'm so cute. You can't resist me," House grinned.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah. That's it."

* * *

Lisa arrived home to an empty dark home. She flicked on the lights, locked the door behind her and put her purse on the side table by the entrance. The couch in the living room was still indented where House had slept the previous night, pillow balled up, blanket thrown over the nearby chair. She folded the throw, smoothed out the cushions and then picked up the pillow. She fluffed it and before she returned it to the linen closet, put it to her face and inhaled. She smiled, not really knowing why or the reason she felt compelled to breathe in his scent.

She shook her head, freeing herself from the fog and noticed she had two new messages on her answering machine. The first was from Foreman looking for House. The second was Juliana.

"_Hey Lisa, it's Jules. I wanted to give you an update about Wil, but you're a hard woman to track down. I've talked to James and he's promised to quit drinking. I'm sure he will; I have complete faith in him, but you might want to still keep an eye on him... just in case. I thought I might try talking to House tomorrow, ask him to do the same. Since it's for Wil... maybe he'll do it even though I'm the one asking. Maybe we can finally get together sometime tomorrow? That is if you can tear yourself away from House. You two haven't slept together again, right? All the nurses seem to think so, but Wil says it's impossible. Shows what he knows. I should probably stop talking now that I've left a twenty minute monologue on your answering machine. 'Night."_

She erased the message, relieved that Wilson had promised to stop drinking and worried that Jules still thought he needed watching. Deciding it was time for some sleep, she took a last involuntary sniff of the pillow before shoving it back in the linen closet and heading to bed.

* * *

**Author's Note (Part Two): **Well, there it is. I promise the next one will be better and longer. House will be annoyed by Jules and maybe Cuddy and Wilson will even get in the same room. Of course, I'm going to throw in some Huddy because.. well, one never has to have a reason.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note (Part One): ** First off, thanks so much for the reviews and all the other goodness. It means a lot! I tried my hand at some medical stuff, but I'm not making a habit of it. I got all my info at Wikipedia and from google, so please excuse any inaccuracies-- I got an English degree in college and took Astronomy for my science, so I'm not pretending to know much. If you're in the medical profession and what I've written makes no sense, please let me know! I'd love for it to be somewhat accurate. Hope you enjoy! Insert obligatory "I don't own this" sentence here.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Kutner followed Thirteen into their conference room, both exhausted from a night full of tests with nothing really to show for it. Thirteen collapsed in a chair and laid her head on the table, Kutner decided to follow suit, but, looking through the glass door, was distracted by a woman sitting in House's office.

"Hey, who's that?" he asked Thirteen.

She turned her head toward House's office without picking it up off the table; she was too tired to be interested. "I don't know, but she's cute. Maybe House is having one of his hookers meet him here."

"It's 9:23 in the morning--"

"It's House," she said closing her eyes, praying for quiet so she could get some sleep.

"You know he doesn't like for people to be in his office when he's not around--"

"Then get her to move. I don't care just as long as you let me sleep until he gets here," she said irritably.

Kutner inwardly debated whether or not to disturb House's inner-sanctum. The girl was about his age, maybe a little younger, wearing jeans and the kind of flouncy empire-waisted top that Thirteen liked. She sat there, across from House's empty seat lost in her own thoughts, occasionally running a hand through her wavy brown hair. She was really attractive, and it was that more than anything, that made Kutner go in the office to talk to her.

"Can I help you?" he ventured.

She turned and smiled, "I'm waiting for House."

"He doesn't really like people to be in his office if he's--"

"I know," she said it matter-of-factly, but was still smiling at him.

He grinned back nervously, "He won't be here for a while probably."

"He gets here later than 9:30?"

"Usually. He might get here earlier today since we have a patient, but I doubt it."

"I guess some things do change." She smiled at him again.

"Do you want some coffee? We have some in the conference room."

"No, thanks. I'll just wait here."

"But he--"

"Don't worry, I'll move to the Eames chair, that way you can pretend like you didn't see me. I won't get you in trouble."

"Thanks," Kutner replied as she moved from one chair to the other.

"No problem," she said, smiling at him as he left.

* * *

"So, who's the girl?" Taub said absently as he focused on the patient's test results. He and Foreman had arrived when Kutner had been quizzing House's visitor. Taub was exhausted, having spent the night running tests with his colleges. Foreman, on the other hand, was well-rested having gone home when House had the previous night.

"Don't know."

"House won't want her in his office," Foreman said simply, examining another set of test results.

"I told her, but she already knew." Kutner plopped down in the nearest chair. Foreman, Taub and Thirteen looked at him, now interested in the woman next door.

"What do you mean?" Thirteen asked while yawning loudly.

"I said, 'He won't want you in here.' She said, 'I know.'"

Foreman's eyebrows furled, "She knows and she chose not to move?"

"She moved to the armchair so I could say I didn't see her sitting in there."

"That's... interesting," Taub said.

"Any change in the patient?" Kutner asked.

"No," Taub said sadly. "If it was pancreatitis, the Demerol and antibiotics would've worked."

* * *

The four went over symptoms, trying to solve the case until House strolled through the door, thirty minutes later. When they looked up at him grimly, he knew they must have been wrong.

"Not pancreatitis?" he said making his way to the door to his office.

"How did you know?" Kutner asked, amazed.

"Because the four of you look like I just ran over your dog," House said swinging open the glass door.

Kutner, Taub, Thirteen and Foreman exchanged looks and then listened, waiting House's reaction to his mystery guest.

* * *

House walked in, threw his bag on the desk before turning around and noticing Juliana sitting in his favorite chair.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's not polite to enter someone's office without their permission?" he asked turning his back to her and picking up his large tennis ball.

"She did, but then I met someone who told me it was okay as long as you had a good reason."

"Can't imagine what that would be," he said coolly.

"I wanted to talk to you. Privately."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to save," he turned, taking his ball with him, and entered the conference room. Jules sighed, knowing it wouldn't be easy engaging in a civilized conversation with House and followed.

"So, it's not pancreatitis, what is it?" House asked, but the four were too busy staring at their guest to concentrate on his question. "Just ignore her."

"It had to have been pancreatitis, we saw it on the CT," Thirteen said.

"Is the patient still sick?," House asked.

"Yes--" Thirteen started.

"Since the patient didn't get better it must be something else."

"Zollinger-Ellison Syndrome," Jules offered. House shot her a deadly look. "I've been listening to you talk next door for half an hour."

"It could fit," Kutner said, considering her diagnosis.

"Didn't I say to ignore her?" House asked, irritated. "She's not even a doctor."

"I am, technically. I just don't practice," Jules countered.

"You're not licensed to practice. You're not a doctor, you write bad medical fiction." House spat.

"You write books?" Kutner asked, excitedly.

House continued, ignoring Kutner, "Of course, the use of the word 'bad' implies that there is some good medical fiction, which there isn't. I call yours bad because it's worse than the rest. So, I guess I should say, you write horrible medical fiction."

"Amylase and lipase were high, it must have been pancreatitis," Foreman said, ignoring House's temper tantrum.

"Maybe your patient has both," Jules suggested.

"ZES is rare by itself, the odds that the patient has both pancreatitis and ZES are--" Taub began.

"Did you do a secretion stimulation test?" Jules asked.

"No--"

"Then how do you know for sure?" she questioned.

"Taub, Thirteen go do a secretion stimulation test," Foreman ordered.

"Sit down!" House said angrily. "You are not going to do a secretion stimulation test based on the recommendation of someone who is not a doctor."

"No, they're doing it on my recommendation. Taub, Thirteen, go do the test," Foreman said forcefully; the two fellows left quickly. "I'm not going to let the patient die just because you don't want us to listen to... whoever she is."

Jules walked to Foreman and held out a hand. "Juliana Wilson, but you can call me Jules. Most everyone does."

"Not me. I never called you Jules," House said grumpily.

"I know, you called me Doogie," she said shaking Foreman's hand. House couldn't help but smile in remembrance.

Foreman smiled, "Eric Foreman. Any relation to Dr. Wilson in Oncology?"

"He's my brother."

"I can see the resemblance," Kutner said happily, shaking Jules' hand himself. "Lawrence Kutner."

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"Now that you've met her can we go back to ignoring her?" House asked.

"I'm not leaving until we talk. So, we can either go into your office and talk or I can follow you around until I drive you crazy."

"Or I kill you."

"You could try, but something tells me I'd have a leg up."

"You've got five minutes," he said, holding open the door to his office.

"That's more than enough time as long as you shut up and let me talk," she said, passing through the doorway.

"You two go make yourself useful and check on the patient or something," he said entering his office, letting the door shut behind him.

House leaned against the front of his desk while Juliana stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"Talk," he said flatly.

"I..." she took a deep breath, "I need your help."

"Conversation is over. I have no interest in helping you," he said, circling his desk and sitting down.

"It's just a small favor--"

"You can leave now."

"It's for Wil."

"If Wilson wants my help, he can come ask me himself."

"He wouldn't. He doesn't know I'm here talking to you, and I don't want him to know."

His interest was piqued, "You want me to do something for him without his knowledge?"

"Yes."

"What?" he couldn't help his curiosity.

"He's been drinking a lot lately."

"His girlfriend just died, tends to put a damper on things," he replied sarcastically.

"Too much. There have been complaints--"

"I know. Cuddy told me," he interrupted.

"We've talked and he promised to stop drinking."

"If he promised to quit, then there's--"

"I don't know if he will."

"He says he will, he will."

"It's not that easy," Juliana said heavily. House knew from experience that she was right, but this was Wilson. If anybody could quit cold turkey, it was him.

"Maybe it will be for him." The statement came out reassuring, surprising both of them.

"I was hoping you could help me keep an eye on him."

"In case you didn't know, we haven't really been spending a lot of time together lately."

"I know, but it's not like you've stopped paying attention."

"He's my..." House didn't finish. He didn't know whether or not he could still call Wilson his best friend. "I can't spy on him. Sorry."

"I asked Lisa and she agreed, but just the two of us aren't enough," Jules inhaled deeply. "Listen, I know you don't like me and I know you don't want to do anything that might further jeopardize your friendship with my brother. That said, I don't know what to do. I can't ask anyone else to help, there's no telling if they'll report him. You and Lisa... the two of you care about him. Even with all that's going on between the two of you, I know you would never say anything. Please."

House studied her for a moment, knowing she must be desperate if she was asking him for help. "I'll let you know if I see anything."

"Thanks."

He nodded and Juliana quietly left his office. House picked up his Magic Eight Ball and shook it. _It is decidedly so._ The gods had spoken, Wilson was in trouble.

* * *

**Author's Note (Part Two): **Ok, this was getting too long, so I decided to stop there. Unfortunately, no visits to Wilson's office or Huddy. But on the bright side, I promise it will be in the next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note (Part One):** I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to update-- I got sidetracked by my other story. Please forgive me! Again, thanks for all of the reviews, reads and alerts. It's like Christmas in July (or, rather, August now). There's some Huddy in this one and the Wilson stuff as I promised last time. Hope you enjoy! I don't own the 'House' crew.. if I did House and Cuddy would have jumped each other seasons ago.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Cuddy knocked on the door to Wilson's office lightly, half desperately wanting to talk to her friend, half hoping that he didn't answer. Things had been awkward between them. Even though she tried to comfort him, be a shoulder to cry on, her days and nights had mostly been spent with House. When they were alone together, the presence of House in her life and of his absence in Wilson's filled the room. Deep down she worried that Wilson resented the time she was spending with House and was angered by it. She knocked again, this time a little louder, wondering what she would say, playing with her pearls.

"Come in," an exhausted voice answered.

Lisa gingerly opened the door to find a haggard Wilson completing his charts. He looked even worse than the day before, the circles under his eyes darker, the hair unrulier, his skin paler and the five o'clock shadow more pronounced. Withdrawal did not suit him.

"Hi," she said quietly, stepping in and shutting the door behind her.

"Hey," he replied with a tired smile.

"I was hoping you would go to lunch with me."

"It's nice of you to offer, but I've got so much paperwork. I really should catch up."

"Please come. I'd like to talk. It'll just be the two of us; I told House he had to fend for himself today at lunch."

"You're actually going to eat a meal without House? How will you survive?" he said sarcastically.

"I don't eat with him that often." Wilson raised his eyebrows. "It just works out that way sometimes."

"He's attached himself to your hip; believe me, I understand the condition. I experienced it for years, but now, I'm proud to say, I have been cured... and I don't expect to suffer the symptoms any time soon."

"Don't say that. You two will work things out. You always do."

"That's just the thing, Lisa, I'm not sure I want things to work out. I'm tired of cleaning up after House. I'm tired of having to accept his actions based on the reasoning that he's House and nothing more can be expected of him. I'm tired for forgiving him. I'm just tired," he finished with a sigh. "Can you blame me?"

"No, I can't," she smiled softly. "I know House can be horrible, but, occasionally, he can be less horrible. Sometimes he can be great."

"I need a break from him. A little time with no lunches, no consults, no bar, no bowling, no counseling, no loans, no House." She nodded sadly to signal her understanding. "But I could use a turkey club-- as long as you're buying."

"This time, but next week you have to pick up the tab."

He smiled as he stood, grabbing his pager from the desk drawer. "Next week? Are you sure you're allowed? I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with your boyfriend."

She playfully batted him on the arm and he feigned pain as they left his office, on their way to the cafeteria.

* * *

Idly eating his fries, House sat in the corner, watching Cuddy and Wilson have lunch at a table across the cafeteria. They had been talking more than eating; Wilson had picked at his sandwich and Cuddy had only taken a few bites of salad. Deep in some serious discussion, Cuddy's eyes were sympathetic as she reached over and squeezed Wilson's right hand. It was the fourth time she had touched him during their meal. House fought of his feelings of jealousy as he saw Wilson return the squeeze and the pair dropped hands, knowing that Cuddy was only offering friendly reassurance-- Or at least that what he told himself.

"What are we watching?," an unwelcome, familiar voice asked him. He briefly glanced over to see Juliana pull out a chair and sit down with a large bowl of frozen yogurt.

"I don't remember telling you you could join me," he grumbled, returning his eyes to the table across the room.

"I don't remember asking permission," she said sweetly.

"There are several other empty tables. Go sit at one of those."

"What are we watching?" she repeated.

"Didn't you hear me tell you—"

"Yeah, I heard you; I just chose to ignore you. Now, what are we watching?"

"Cuddy and Wilson," he stated, annoyed.

"That's who, I asked _what_."

"Cuddy and Wilson eating."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. The what and the why. I seem to remember being told that when you're studying someone those are the only questions that matter."

"God, you're annoying," he said, eating a fry .

She smiled, "Please. You know you love that I remember something you said years ago. It makes you feel like you taught me something, like you're smarter than me."

"I am smarter than you. Better looking, too."

"Only if we've somehow transported to the planet Htrae," she smirked. "What is it then? Friends sympathizing over a meal? Two doctors on the cusp of becoming more than colleagues?"

"The why is more interesting."

"The why is easy. Why they're eating together? Because Lisa feels like she's neglected Wil. She feels guilty and turning her down would make him feel guilty. Plus she wants to see how he's detoxing. Why you're watching? Because you're jealous and worried that it could be something more than a friendly lunch."

"I'm not jealous, I'm curious. They could rip off each other's clothes and have sex right on the table, I wouldn't care. I would, however, tape the act with my camera phone and post it on YouTube."

She laughed and then groaned, "He is into that kind of thing."

House raised his eyebrows and turned toward her, "What kind of thing?"

"I came home the other night and found him crying, watching a video he made with Amber."

"Wilson?!" House said in disbelief.

"It was all I could do not to run from the apartment screaming. Ughh," she shuddered in disgust. "Even though he was only crying... still... it is something I never needed to see and never want to see again. Ever. Never ever."

"He didn't tell me," House pouted.

"Is there a reason he should have?"

"We're friends. Friends tell those kinds of things to each other."

"I can't think of one friend I would tell if I made a sex tape."

"You're not a man. We tell our friends. Hell, we'd tell everyone we know."

"There is such a thing as discretion."

"There are no secrets between friends-- at least not when it comes to threesomes and homemade sex tapes. Those are the things men are required, by law, to tell the guys."

"Required by law, huh?"

"It's in the Bro Code. Right up there with 'a bro cannot sleeping with another bro's mom' and 'a bro must alert a bro of a girlfight.' You should check it out, it's good stuff."

* * *

"Do you think it's weird that House has been spying on us while he could be watching 'General Hospital'?" Cuddy asked Wilson, nodding to a table in the corner.

Wilson glanced over quickly, frowning, "It's House; if he was sitting there eating his fries not watching us, then I'd be worried. I do think it's weird that my sister is sitting with him and they haven't killed each other yet."

"She's really worried about you."

Wilson sighed, "I know."

"She's not the only one."

"I'll be fine. Really. There's nothing to worry about." He tried to sound sympathetic, but it came out exasperated.

"You'd let me know if you couldn't do this on your own, right?"

"I'm not an alcoholic," Cuddy looked at him skeptically. "I can admit that I might have a problem. But it's a problem I can handle on my own."

"If things get to be too hard," she said, taking his hand again, "I want you to come to me. We can work something out if you need to check--"

"I'm not House; I don't need rehab," Wilson insisted.

"At least let me prescribe you diazepam to help with the withdrawal symptoms."

"I don't want anyone to know. If you prescribe me diazepam people are going to be suspicious."

"I'll prescribe it to Jules. No one will have to know."

"It's not that bad. I just have some insomnia, nervousness--"

"I'm writing you a script. Jules can pick it up after three."

He smiled at her meekly, wanting to tell her how much it meant to him that she was so supportive, that she cared, but all he could manage was a weak "Thanks."

* * *

House narrowed his eyes as he saw Cuddy take Wilson's hand again, this time he squeezed hers and they remained linked. His view was soon impeded by an idiot in a labcoat. House glared up at Thirteen, who had come to discuss their patient.

"Do you mind? I was watching that," he said, moving her out of his line of sight with the end of his cane.

"The results of the secretion stimulation test are back. He definitely has Zollinger-Ellison Syndrome."

"Put him on omperazole and schedule another MRI to check for tumors," House said, preoccupied with Cuddy and Wilson.

Thirteen stepped in front of him again, "He won't let us treat him until he sees you. He wants some sort of guarantee that this is the right diagnosis, not another wrong one."

"There are no guarantees."

"That's what Foreman told him, but he only wants to hear it from you."

"Fine. I'll be up in a minute, as soon as I finish my fries."

"If you're not up in five minutes Foreman says he's going to come drag you up," Thirteen said, turing to leave.

"I'd like to see him try," he challenged. When his fellow left it allowed him to see that Wilson and Cuddy had vacated the premises.

"Told you," Jules gloated, scraping the side of her bowl with her spoon.

House shoved a few more fries in his mouth, "You shouldn't have quit. You were good."

"I was miserable."

"You can't just stop being a doctor because you're miserable."

"Why not?"

"Because you have a gift. You can do things that other doctors can't. You have an obligation to practice."

"Just because you can do something well doesn't mean that you should, doesn't mean that you have to," she said taking the last bite of her yogurt and standing up.

"Morally you--"

"Morally? Come on, House. _Morally?_ If I had continued my residency, if I had gotten my license, I would have been an excellent doctor, no doubt. I would've been able to save some lives, who knows how many. But I would have been miserable. And after years of being miserable, I was ready to be happy." She tossed the bowl into the nearby trash can. "Don't underestimate happiness, House. You should try it. Who knows? Maybe you'd like it."

He watched her walk away, eating his last fry before heading up to see his patient.

* * *

Lisa was searching through her filing cabinet, trying in vain to find a copy of some report a member of the board requested. Her secretary was gone for the day and she had stayed late, again, to try and catch up on her work, though at the rate she was going it seemed like she would never finish. She was absently thumbing through a chart when she heard the familiar sound of a cane hitting the floor and felt hot breath on the back of her neck.

"Shouldn't you be at home?" he asked, inhaling deep to smell her hair. He fought the urge to step closer and pin her to the filing cabinet; reminding himself it was inconvenient to have those kinds of thoughts about your boss, about your friend.

Cuddy turned to face him, closing the top drawer as she did, "Am I ever home?"

"This is why it's good I drag you to bars. It's the only time you get to have any fun."

She walked to her desk, brushing up against him inadvertently as she did, "I can't. I've got too much work."

"Put it off until tomorrow," he said following her.

"That's what I have been doing. Now I'm drowning in paperwork. I have a board meeting in a couple of days and don't have anything done for it."

"You know I don't like going to bars by myself," he said truthfully. Drinking alone didn't have the same kind of appeal as it once did since the accident. Now he avoided it at all costs.

"I'm sorry, House. Why don't you ask Kutner or Taub to get a beer?"

"I don't want to drink with them. I want to drink with you. Besides, it's not like we've seen each other much today; you spent all afternoon holding Wilson's hand," he whined.

"Wilson's my friend, he needed someone to talk to," she said, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper in front of her.

"_I'm_ your friend and I need someone to drink with."

"House, I have to finish this paperwork before Thursday."

"Do it tomorrow."

"I won't be able to finish it all at work tomorrow."

"So stay after tomorrow night instead. Tell you what, you come out drinking with me tonight and tomorrow night I'll hang around here with you while you finish all your boring paperwork. I'll even spring for Chinese."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically, "You're going to pay for something?"

"I pay for things all the time."

"Since we've been drinking together you've never paid. Not once, not even for yourself."

"And yet you still come out with me," he grinned. "You must really like my company."

"Not tonight. Tonight, I have work to do."

House walked to the coat rack, pulled off her jacket and tossed it to her. "Come on. Have a beer tonight and tomorrow we can both be bored." When she remained unmoved he added, "I'll even work on my charts."

"I don't believe you."

"Scout's honor," he said, holding up two fingers.

"I think that means 'rock on.'"

He extended the thumb, keeping his other fingers in the same place. "Scout's honor."

"That means 'I love you' in sign language," she smiled. He lowered his hand quickly.

"Whatever the sign is. I promise to do my charts tomorrow and buy us Chinese. Now come on."

She studied him for a moment, then stood up and grabbed her purse. She slipped out of her labcoat, putting it on the coatrack. "If you don't show up tomorrow night you owe me fifteen extra clinic hours."

"How many do I get taken off when I show up?"

"None," she replied, slipping on her jacket.

"Now that's just mean." He grinned at her as he left the office. She was right behind him, pulling the door shut after her.

* * *

**Author's Note (Part Two):** I promise to update this story a little faster next time. Hopefully I won't get sidetracked again. Huddy and Chinese take-out next time! Yay!


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note (Part One):** Guess who's back? Sorry it took an amazingly long time to update, I got completely caught up in my other story which is now (mostly) finished. Please accept my humble and sincere apologies. Let me also add my thanks for those of you still out there reading, alerting and, especially, commenting on this story. It makes me uber-happy and I hope you'll continue to do it! Without further adieu, here's the next chapter... hope you like all the Huddy-ness! These characters all belong to David Shore, who is _the man_ and who I bow down before (if you've read Us Weekly lately, you know why) and kiss his feet.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Jules yawned as she walked into the kitchen, groggy and wet-headed. James was sitting on the couch, mug in one hand, running the other over his rough jaw, watching tv. She poured herself a cup of coffee and padded into the living room, opting to sit in the armchair rather than on the sofa with her brother.

"_Back with the finger-fiddlers, Adam and Jamie have just tasted success. Using a ballistics gel fingerprint they beat the computer scanner_," the narrator summarized.

"What is this... the fifth time you've watched this episode in the past three days?" Jules asked staring at the screen.

"I like the show," he said simply, taking a swig.

"You know they re-run episodes of _MythBusters_ all the time. You could Tivo another episode, that way you don't have to keep watching this one over and over."

"I like this one. It's got a fingerprint security system. Which is cool," he smiled at her over his mug.

She groaned, "Wil, I've got the dialogue memorized. I think it's time to move on."

"Fine, you can help me pick out some shows to record tonight. We can argue over time-slots and eat take-out."

"Normally, I'd jump at the chance to explain just how many ways 'Chuck' is superior to 'Dancing with the Stars', but I have plans tonight."

"Plans?" he said surprised. "What kind of plans? Did your manager find out you're in the States? Are they forcing you to go to dinner again?"

"Yes they found out, yes I have to go to dinner, but not tonight. Dr. Cameron, I think that's her name--"

"Pretty, blonde hair, likes vests?"

"That's the one. Anyway, Dr. Cameron invited me to go out for drinks with her and some other of House's former and current fellows. They want to grill me about House; what he was like when he was with Stacy, what he was like after, why I left, those kinds of things."

"And you're willing to talk about them?" he raised an eyebrow. "You're always telling me that you aren't into 'rehashing the past'."

"I know, but she seemed so nice and excited; I couldn't say no. I felt like I would be crushing her dreams."

James smiled, "She has that effect on people."

"It might be fun, getting to know someone other than you and Cuddy. You know I've never had a lot of people to talk to. Might be a nice change."

"I'm happy for you," James said half-heartedly. He didn't mean to sound so defeated as he said it. Part of him, the part of him the was her loving big brother, wanted her to find some new friends. But another part of him, the one that was miserable and grieving, was comforted by the parallels between them; no partner, lonely, a friend in Lisa Cuddy and their sibling. The parallels made him feel close to her, despite feeling removed from everyone else. If her circumstances changed, then he would be alone again and he didn't know if he could cope.

"I don't have to go," she offered, noticing the sadness in his voice.

"No, no, you should go and get to know people. I'll order some Chinese and tackle the Tivo by myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's good that you're going out because now I know that I can tape 'Grey's Anatomy' and 'Desperate Housewives' and you won't be here to argue with me."

"You know you could go out, too. A shave, pressed pants, dinner with a friend might be a good thing for your morale."

"My morale is fine," he reassured her.

"Wil, you've been sitting on the couch every spare moment you have."

"I like sitting on the couch and watching tv. Besides, I don't have anyone to go out with," he finished, sadly.

They were silent for a few moments before Jules said, "Maybe if you talk to him--"

James shot her a look, "I don't want to talk to him."

"It's been weeks."

"So it's been weeks."

"James," he took notice of the use of his first name. She only used it when she was being serious and wanted him to listen. "You obviously miss him--"

"I don't miss him."

"And he obviously misses you. Maybe it's time to forgive him. Maybe it's time to work through the issues you have with him. Maybe you should try to move past your anger and try to fix your friendship."

"I don't think it can be fixed."

"You'll never know until you try."

"Sometimes you can. Sometimes you know."

"What happened was horrible, but it wasn't House's fault. There's no way he could have known that Amber would pick up the phone, that she would follow him on the bus, that the bus would crash, the she would be injured, that she would--"

"I know," he said tensely. "I know it wasn't House's fault, but he could have prevented it, I could have prevented it. All those years of neediness and enabling--"

"Stop it. Stop blaming yourself. Stop blaming House. It's not your fault. It's not his. Amber's dead and it's unfair and tragic, but separating yourself from House, distancing yourself from your friendship with him is not helping, it's just making you both more miserable."

"We both deserve to be miserable; we should be."

"You can't live the rest of your life in solitude and despair because you feel guilty. Misery is not a requirement of mourning. Just because you're content, just because you smile or laugh from time to time, just because you're friends with House doesn't mean that you don't love her, it doesn't mean that you don't miss her or that you never cared about her. It's okay to move on."

James sighed and stared at his mug. They finished their cups of coffee in silence watching Adam and Jamie beat the lock, Jules' words filling up the space between them.

When he made his way into the kitchen to put his mug in the dishwasher, Jules followed him. She watched him put on his shoes and find his keys.

"Just think about it," she said to him as he was on the way out of the door. "Just think about trying."

* * *

The day had passed painfully slowly. Since there seemed to be no medical mysteries to pass around, House had been forced to work in the clinic with the rest of his staff. The only interesting part of the day came from Kutner who, after the second consecutive hour of duty, suggested that they all speak to the patients in various accents. Normally, it was the kind of idiotic suggestion that would cause House to shoot his fellow a demoralizing look, but the day was so boring he grabbed at the chance to have any fun, even if it was childish-- Or, maybe, especially because it was.

Kutner and House played their game for a little over three hours with intermittent participation from Thirteen-- Taub had refused, moody due to a fight with his wife. Kutner impressively convinced a little old lady he was from Sweden, while House had been particularly proud he conned a young businessman into believing he was from China. As the clock approached three, House locked a door to one of the exam rooms and decided to take a little nap until it was five, when he could scurry off to Cuddy's office without threat of being punished.

* * *

"Rise and shine," Cuddy said loudly, shoving House awake. When he didn't respond, he pushed him again, this time harder, "House. Wake up."

He groaned, "Come back in fifteen minutes. I'm having a good dream."

Even though his eyes were closed he could feel her put her hands on her hips, "You were supposed to be in my office with your paperwork an hour and a half ago."

"Seriously, you're just about to kiss Carmen Electra. Go away."

She smiled, "House, I'm hungry. Come on."

"Fine," he complained, finally opening his eyes. "Now I'll never know how it ends. "

"Carmen Electra's not my type, so I decided to shake her hand instead. Hurry up."

House sat up and grabbed his cane from where it was hanging on the side of the exam table. "Carmen's everybody's type." He stood up and stretched.

"Not mine," she said opening the door. "Now, if you'd have said Salma Hayek..." Cuddy smiled back at him as she left the room, laughing at the look of shock on his face; eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

* * *

Cuddy tapped the top of her pen against the desk several times impatiently, her stomach growled, wondering where their food was. After six sharp clicks, House glanced up from the charts he was pretending to work on. He smiled as he watched her play with her pearls absentmindedly while studying her paperwork.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Didn't they say forty-five minutes? It's been fifty-eight," she answered, irritated. "Maybe we should call."

"They said forty-five minutes to an hour. They've still got two minutes. Trust me, they'll be here," he looked back down at his charts.

She exhaled sharply, "Fine. They've got two minutes. If they're not here by then--"

Cuddy was interrupted by a loud knock on the outermost door to her office. She was surprised to see a small Asian man smiling at her enthusiastically with four large bags of food.

"House, how much food did you order?"

"I know the kind of appetites you succubi have. I wanted to make sure there was enough so you didn't eat me, too," he said swiping his cane and standing up. "Come on, I can't carry the food all by myself."

Cuddy eagerly dropped her pencil and made her way to the door with House. She flipped on the light in the entrance room to her office while House popped open the door.

"Hello, Dr. House. How are you doing tonight?" the man asked happily.

"Good, thanks Bo."

"Sorry about taking so long, but I went to your office first and then I saw the note on the door," he peaked around House to see Cuddy. "I thought maybe this was Dr. Wilson's office, but I guess not." The old man smiled at House. "I see why you needed all the food. It's nice that you're on a date."

House returned the smile, "Bo Leung, this demon temptress is my boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes while Bo laughed. "Nice to meet you Mr. Leung," she said taking the bags from his hands and setting them on her secretary's desk briefly.

"Call me Bo, everyone does. Pleased to meet you Dr. Cuddy. I'm glad to see that Dr. House is finally taking my advice and getting out dating again," he said, pulling out the receipt from his pocket and handing it to House.

"Oh, we're not dating, we're just friends," Cuddy replied.

"Not dating? Too bad. You two make a good couple. Almost as handsome as me and my wife."

House grabbed a pen from the cup on the desk, scribbled his signature and returned the receipt to the delivery-man. He pulled twenty dollars from his pocket and handed that to Bo. Cuddy's raised her eyebrows, surprised that a cheapskate like House would ever tip someone, let alone that much.

"Thank you, Dr. House. Generous as always. Dr. Cuddy, it was a pleasure. I hope I'll be seeing much more of you in the future." Cuddy smiled and nodded. "她喜欢您, 我能知道," he said to House as he was leaving.

"您真正地认为如此?"

"是, 不要弄糟它."

"我将尝试不是," House replied perfectly. Cuddy looked at him, unable to hide how impressive she found it. "I know, I'm awesome."

She laughed and picked up the bags of food, making her way back in her office. "When did you learn Chinese?"

"In college. I was taking Eastern Philosophy and got bored, so I decided to learn a language."

Cuddy plopped the food on the coffee table and took a seat in her favorite armchair. House flung himself on the sofa and began tearing into the bags.

"Should I get us plates?" she asked as he began pulling carton after carton of food out, sorting by some secret criteria.

"Plates?!" he asked, pretending to be scandalized. "Cuddy! Are you a philistine? You can't eat Chinese food on plates!"

"You can't?" she replied, amused.

"Of course not! You've got to eat it out of the carton! The food tastes better that way. Duh."

"Well, if it tastes better," she said, reaching for an eggroll.

After he had pulled out all the food from three bags, he opened the last one to reveal a six pack of Tsingtao beer.

"House, we can't drink beer, we're working."

"We're not on call and we're only doing paperwork. Besides, you can't eat Chinese food without drinking beer."

"But I don't like beer."

"Trust me, you'll like this beer. It's good, much better than that crappy Scottish beer the bartender gave you," he said, jealously peeking out.

She smiled at his response and at the memory of her courtship and his jealousy. "Well, if I'll like it," she said, taking a bottle and unscrewing the cap.

"You know that's the second time in the last five minutes you've deferred to my judgement. I like this new, submissive Cuddy. I wonder what else I can get you to do," he wagged his eyebrows and she laughed while rolling her eyes.

* * *

Wilson stared at the clock on his desk and ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. Jules had left about an hour ago with Cameron, his paperwork had been finished for the past twenty minutes, even his filing was up-to-date. He was completely out of work, but in no mood to head back home to an empty apartment.

He kept hearing his sister's voice in his head urging him to forgive House, to move on, to try. Cameron had let it slip when she stopped by to pick up Juliana that Cuddy and House had planned to do paperwork together in her office all night. As Jules' annoying, caring, always-right voice repeated in his head, James smiled. Juliana's infallibility was always one of her more irritating qualities, and one of the only things regarding his sister that he and House agreed on.

He found himself packing his briefcase quickly, almost excited as he threw papers and files into it. Hoping that it was time, he pushed the doubt out of his mind and closed the briefcase. The trip down to the lobby from the fourth floor felt like forever and caused the nervous knots in his stomach to tighten. He walked down the hall quietly, the minute in the elevator giving him enough time to have second thoughts.

The clinic was mostly dark, lit only by security lights and the glow from Cuddy's office. He took a deep breath before peering in at his friends, hoping to stay inconspicuous. They were eating dinner, probably delivered by Bo, laughing, swiping containers from the table. Cuddy reached over and stole a snow pea with her chopsticks from the box House was eating from. House covered the box territorially and mumbled some smart remark about Cuddy's ass getting bigger. She laughed freely, batting the foot he was propping up on the coffee table. Wilson put his hand on the doorknob and paused.

While Cuddy was looking down, weeding through containers to find one particular entree, House watched her, transfixed. Even from a distance House's feelings were glaring like a cheap, neon sign. He was smiling in the way that someone who didn't know him well might wrongly diagnose as a smirk. Corners of his mouth slightly upturned, eyes filled with longing. He hadn't seen the look since Stacy's last visit, before their brief affair and his martyrdom. Cuddy looked up and House quickly hid his emotions, producing another flippant remark.

Wilson frowned and instinctively dropped his hand. House was the same, still ignoring his feelings, acting like an arrogant ass. And he was still angry, about Amber, sure, but also about House's inability to let anything good into his life, to take a chance on happiness. Wilson was angry because House could have the kind of happiness that was taken from him, but he instead chose to be miserable. Jules was wrong, it wasn't time. He turned away from the door and walked back to the lobby, brooding.

He mashed the call button and when the elevator doors popped open a haggard looking Taub was occupying the car.

"Dr. Taub," Wilson said, stepping into the elevator.

"Wilson," he replied, exhausted.

"Are you alright?" he asked, relieved he was finally able to pose the question instead of receive it.

"My wife and I... Let's just say, things could be going better."

"You want to talk about it?" Wilson offered reluctantly.

"Maybe later. Right now, I'm going to get hammered. Want to come with?"

The doors opened into the parking deck, both Wilson and Taub exited. Taub raised his eyebrows waiting for the oncologist's response.

"Sure," Wilson replied. "I'd like that."

"Great. I'll meet you at Parker's Pub?"

"Sounds good." Taub took off toward his car and Wilson made his way to his own. He felt a little guilty about accepting the invitation, but figured one drink couldn't hurt. After all, it had been a long day.

* * *

Cuddy picked up another eggroll and dipped it in red sauce. "Mmm," she mumbled as she enjoyed the bite.

House laughed, "It's like you haven't eaten in years the way you're shoving things in your mouth."

She smiled, taking a swig of beer, "I usually watch what I eat, but I figured 'what the hell?,' everyone needs to splurge every once and while. Might as well tonight since you provided such a delicious smorgasbord."

"Bo knows how to make food; you've got to give him that."

"He cooks and delivers the food?" she said picking up a noodle and slurping it.

"Bo and his wife own the restaurant. He used to make all the runs himself when they first opened about ten years ago, but now they've got a couple of locations open so he doesn't need to."

"You've been ordering from the same Chinese food place for ten years? Why does that not surprise me?"

"You know what a fan I am of change," he said sarcastically. "Anyway, Bo still makes runs for some of his best customers. There are about five of us who have been with him since the beginning; he won't let anyone else bring me my food."

"It's hard to believe that you could be someone's favorite customer," she smirked. "Must be the fact you can speak Chinese."

"I'm sure that doesn't hurt my stock," he replied, stuffing a big piece of chicken in his mouth.

"I've been wondering, what did Bo say to you when he spoke in Chinese?"

"He told me to watch out, he could tell you might handcuff me to the couch and suck the life from me. I told him, not to worry I know self-defense, then he wished me luck." Cuddy picked up a fortune cookie and threw it at him.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." Cuddy opened her cookie and read, "_Your infinite capacity for patience will be rewarded sooner or later. _Yeah, right. Does that mean you're going to start doing your clinic hours?"

"Never," he grinned. "And you forgot to add 'in bed' to the end. So, your real fortune is '_Your infinite capacity for patience will be rewarded sooner or later in bed_', which is totally true because I am one beer and a scotch away from letting you have your way with me."

Cuddy chucked and shook her head, "Be still my beating heart." She stood up and slowly made her way back to her desk. "Now that dinner is finished, we should be getting back to work."

"I'm not done yet. I haven't even cracked open my fortune cookie."

"Well, do it and get back to work. You've completed two charts since we started."

"Two's pretty good," House said defensively.

"Not when you have a stack of seventeen. Read your fortune and get back to work," she said resuming her study of the hospital budget.

"You're such a taskmaster," he said, pouting.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she replied without looking up.

House opened his cookie. _The one you love is closer than you think._ He glanced up at Cuddy, her beautiful face scrunched up as she concentrated on the hospital's numbers. He smiled and thought about what Bo had said to him earlier.

"_She likes you, I can tell."_

"_You really think so?"_

"_Yes, just don't screw it up."_

"_I'll try not to."_

"House, I know you opened that fortune cookie. Get back to work."

He smiled widely and replied in a fake Southern accent, "Yes, m'm." He popped the cookie into his mouth and found his way back his charts, briefly allowing himself to think '_What if?_'.

* * *

**Author's Note (Part Two):** There it is! This is officially the longest chapter I've ever written, so I hope it makes up for the wait between updates. Now that I've updated, I promise to keep up with it better. Hopefully I can keep my promise since we're getting into the fall season and I am easily distracted by television (real television at least, the kind with a plot)-- so bear with me! I used the translator app on my Mac's dashboard, so if you know Chinese and it's wrong, please accept my apologies! Next time, House becomes suspicious of Wilson and his little friend, Cuddy and Jules have lunch.


End file.
